Mother In A Moment: Mother In A Moment / Millionaire's Instant Baby

Regan scooted out a chair and climbed up on it, sitting high on her knees and leaning over the edge of the table, anchoring his newspaper with her elbows. “I dunno. I don’t like you.”

“Why?”

Her eyebrows drew together. She poked at the edge of the newspaper with her fingertip, deliberately tearing it. “’Cause you’re mean.”

Garrett looked at her over his coffee. “And you’re rude,” he returned smoothly.

“No, I’m not. I’m a princess. My mommy told me so.”

“I’m sure she did. But even princesses have good manners.”

“They certainly do,” Darby commented from the doorway. She held out her hand for Regan. “Apologize to your uncle Garrett for what you said.”

“She doesn’t have to apologize for telling me what she thinks,” Garrett said. He held up the page of the newspaper that was ripped crookedly through the article he’d been reading. “You can apologize for doing this,” he told Regan.

She pouted. “It was a accident.”

“You can still be sorry for an accident,” Darby said. “Excuse us.” She didn’t look at Garrett as she led the girl out of the room.

He could hear them talking, then the temper-filled stomp of small feet going upstairs. Darby returned and headed for the coffee. She poured a cup and held it to her face, inhaling deeply. “Nectar of the gods,” she murmured.

He dragged his attention from her legs. But it wasn’t easy. Not with the thigh-length white sundress she wore. “Is Regan upstairs making a voodoo doll of me to stick pins into?”

“No. She’s just testing you, Garrett. To see where the boundaries are.”

“I’m not a complete idiot.”

Her lips parted. “I…know that.” She set aside her coffee cup and pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge. “I expected you to be at work by now.”

“Disappointed?”

She whirled around, and he smiled faintly. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to what she was doing.

“I thought I’d take a crack at the plumbing,” he admitted. “The office won’t fall apart without me for a few hours.”

She was cracking eggs into a pan. “Why don’t you just hire someone? The owner should take care of it, anyway, just like all the other things wrong around here.”

“They should, but they haven’t. And I’m a hands-on guy, what can I say? Do you always wear white or tan-colored clothes?”

Her movements slowed for only a moment. “Yes. I’m a bland kind of girl. What can I say?”

“Hardly bland. More like a refreshing vanilla ice cream on a hot summer day.”

Her eyes were amused. “My, my. Poetry. What are you angling for now? Another ‘barely a week’ of child care?”

He shook out his paper and started reading again. There was another article about the accident. This time, instead of the usual focus about Elise’s family connections, the subject of the article was the other driver, who’d apparently had some pretty serious connections himself. To the kind of wealth and power that Caldwell could only dream.

“Just saying what I think. Like Regan does. Did you see this article? That Phil Candela guy was apparently some mucky-muck with Rutherford Transportation outta Kentucky. Wonder what he was doing in Fisher Falls.”

“Maybe he was on his way through to somewhere else,” she said abruptly. “What are you really doing here? Why aren’t you out conquering the world of construction?”

“Fixing the plumbing,” he assured. His coffee mug was empty again and he stood, reaching for the pot. What he was really doing was trying to follow Hayden’s suggestion that, if he wanted to win in court against Caldwell, he needed to show at least some makings of a family man.

“Want more?” He held up the pot. She shook her head, and he realized her cup was still brimming full. “Still too hot to drink?”

“Oh, I don’t drink the stuff. Tastes horrid. I just like the smell.”

“Sacrilege,” he grumbled, pouring the rest of the pot into his cup. “Heresy.”

“Good taste.” She slid two fried eggs onto a plate and handed them to him, shutting off the stove in the same motion. “Eat your eggs. I’m going to get the kids now, so if you don’t want to get in the way of flying food, you’ll eat them quickly and escape.”

He took the plate. “Darby.” She paused in the doorway, looking back at him. “About last night. In here.”

Her skin turned pink. “It was late,” she dismissed.

He hadn’t quite known what he’d been going to say. But he knew it wasn’t that. “Yeah, right,” he said blandly. “Late.”

Four hours later he was cursing the idiot who’d installed the pipes, the idiot inspector who’d approved them and the idiot corporation that owned the house and probably a dozen others just like it. He’d hunched into crawlspaces, climbed through the sloppily insulated attic, torn out a good piece of wall and dug a ditch near the foundation deep enough to swim in.

“Having fun?”

He looked up at Darby from hosing off his muddy hands. She’d brought the kids out to the backyard and they’d all been chasing a bright beach ball around the grass. In fact, Darby had several grass stains on her sundress, which wasn’t a dress at all, he’d realized. The skirt of her dress was actually shorts, as he’d seen when she’d been trying to teach Regan how to turn cartwheels.

She seemed almost driven to show the kids a fun time.

“There’s a leak that could sink a ship,” he muttered.

“No ship could sink in this much mud.” She gestured toward his jeans. Mud caked them up to the knees. “The children have been begging to play in it like their uncle Garrett has been.”

“Hell, yeah. It’ll be one big game to replace the entire section of pipe from the main to the house.”

The ball bounced their way, and Darby caught it, laughing when her bare foot slipped in the mud. She barely caught herself from falling on her rear. “You said you were a hands-on guy. If you don’t want to fix it yourself, hire someone. You run a construction company, for heaven’s sake!” She tossed the ball at him and it bounced off his chin before he dropped the hose and caught it in his muddy hands.

Actually, he owned the construction company, but he didn’t correct her. He tossed the ball back at her, and it left a muddy mark against her white outfit, right over the enticing thrust of her breasts. She stared down at herself, her expression surprised. Then her lashes lowered.

His eyes narrowed at the sly look she cast him. Suddenly she struck, reaching the hose just before he did, and turning it full on in his face.

Ignoring the streaming water, he hooked his arm around her waist and tipped her off her feet, holding her easily over the mud bath below them.

“No, no, wait,” she gasped, giggling so hard her face was red. “I’m sorry. Really. That was…was completely inappropriate of me.”

He squinted through the water she was still squirting in his face. “Inappropriate?” He finally managed to redirect the hose. Right at her. “I’ll show you inappropriate.”

She shrieked and wriggled, her hands pushing at him.

Garrett laughed. And it struck him then that it had been a long time since he’d done so. Water soaked his shirt, soaked her clothes. The children were watching them, agog. He laughed so hard his chest hurt.

He laughed so hard, his hold on Darby loosened. She twisted free, her feet tangling with his legs, and down they went.

Mud splattered.

Water gushed.

“I can’t believe you did this!” Darby tried to sit up and ended up only spreading more mud. She planted her hands on Garrett’s chest for traction.

“Me? I didn’t trip us,” he pointed out. He was sprawled on his back, half in the muddy trench, half on the grass. There were streaks of mud on his cheek. “Besides, you started it all with the bouncing ball.”

He lifted his head to look at her. “You know, I don’t think I’ve laughed in this town since I was five years old.”

Darby’s throat tightened. She realized her hands were still pressed against his chest. It might as well have been bare for all the protection his soaking-wet T-shirt provided. “I didn’t laugh a whole lot in my childhood, either,” she admitted.

“You need a bath.” Regan stood beside them, her nose wrinkled.

Darby chuckled. “You’ve certainly got that right, peaches.”

“I’m not a peach. I’m a princess.”

Garrett reached out and dashed his fingertip across her nose, leaving a streak of mud. “A princess with mud on her nose.”

Reid ran up beside his sister, sticking out his face. “Do me. Do me.”

Darby watched Regan’s expression. The little girl didn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted. But when Reid giggled wildly at the dollop of mud Garrett deposited on his button nose, she finally grinned. She crouched down and gathered up a handful of the slick stuff and turned on her heel, running toward the triplets who were corralled in the playpen.

Darby groaned. “Too much of a good thing,” she decided quickly and scrambled to her feet. She caught up to Regan and redirected the girl. In minutes Regan and Reid were making mud pies, and the toddlers had escaped their own “anointing.”

She had muddy handprints all over her dress, and her legs and feet were coated. Garrett was hosing himself off again. She started across the yard toward him, stopping short when he suddenly yanked off his shirt and dropped it on the ground beside him before turning the hose over his head like a shower.

Regan tugged on her shorts, and Darby dragged her gaze from the sight of water streaming off Garrett’s broad shoulders.

“Uncle Garrett’s getting naked.”

“No, sweetheart.” Her voice felt strangled. “He just took off his shirt because he’s all muddy from working on the plumbing. See? He’s just cleaning up a little.” She couldn’t keep from looking back at him and felt her stomach jolt at the sight.

She brushed her wet hair back from her face and focused on the much safer sight of her miniature charges. “While you guys are making mud desserts there, I’m going to make our main course. We’ll eat out here. Have a picnic. Sound good?”

Enthusiastic cheers followed her as she walked toward Garrett. He’d turned the hose on an assortment of tools. “Mind if I use the hose there for a little rinsing myself?”

He pointed the hose at her legs, and she shivered a little as the cold water washed away the mud. But it was a good shiver because the day was almost unbearably hot. “So, are you going to be able to fix the leak you found?”

He didn’t look at her as he nodded, and Darby stifled a sigh. For a while there he’d laughed. The sound had delighted her just as much as when she’d heard Regan and Reid giggling in the bathroom that first night.

Now, however, he’d apparently put his sense of humor back on ice.

“I’m going to fix some lunch. Would you like some?”

“No. I’m gonna pick up some materials to get this mess taken care of.” He bent over, hooking his fingers through the handle of his red toolbox.

Darby folded her arms, looking anywhere but at the play of muscles across his smooth, hard back. You’d think she’d never seen a male torso before.

You haven’t. Not one like this.

She ignored the voice. “You’ve got to eat,” she said to him.

“I’ll grab something while I’m gone.” He straightened, hefting the heavy box with ease.

“But—”

“Darby.” His jaw looked tight. “Let me take care of the plumbing and my stomach, and you take care of the five minis. Deal?”

She frowned, glancing at the children. They were perfectly occupied in the yard. Safely fenced in. The only dangers were squishy, messy mud and grass stains. She followed Garrett around the side of the house, latching the gate behind her. “Have I upset you? I know I’m just the nanny and you’re the boss, but it was just so funny. I couldn’t resist.”

“Some things I can’t resist, either,” he said roughly. “And dammit, Darby, you’re soaking wet.”

She ran her hands through her wet hair. “So are you.”

“I’m not wearing white.” He ran his finger along the narrow strap over her shoulder. “You are.”

She flushed, hastily crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t realize.”

“I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

Garrett exhaled in a thin stream and stepped in her path when she turned to go. “I’m not. But that’s a problem I’m just gonna have to deal with.”

Her chin angled. “There’s no problem. I wasn’t throwing myself at you.”

“No, you were throwing mud and—”

“I said I was sorry.”

“You were throwing smiles and laughter, too. And the kids loved it. So stop apologizing.”

Her mouth closed. But only for a moment. “Is the water turned back on inside the house, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Well. Okay, then. Be sure you put a fresh bandage on your finger.”

He’d told himself he wouldn’t. “I loved it, too,” he admitted. And sliding his hand around her neck, he pulled her to him and pressed his mouth to hers.

He heard her squeak. Felt her gasp. Tasted her shock. Her surprise.

Her hands touched his arms. Rose to his shoulders. Destroyed his intentions. His toolbox hit the ground with a heavy thud.

He slid one arm around her narrow waist. It was like holding a fluttering wild thing against him. Like tasting an exotic, heady spice. He kissed her jaw. The pulse thundering frantically beneath her ear. “Open your mouth,” he muttered.

She inhaled and he felt the thrust of her breasts against him. The heat that had been simmering inside him bubbled. He covered her mouth again, tasting. Going deeper, needing— “Well, this is about what I expected of you.”

The intrusive voice barely penetrated Garrett’s brain. But Darby sprang back from him as if she’d been shot.

He shifted, shielding her behind him, and stared at the one man he could truly say he hated.

Caldwell Carson.

“I’ve never much been interested in what you expect,” Garrett said evenly.

“Carrying on in plain sight of my grandchildren with one of your—”

“Don’t say it,” Garrett warned. “And they’re my nieces and nephews. In case you’ve forgotten.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing,” Caldwell snapped. “Particularly the fact that Elise never had anything to do with you. This story you’ve managed to concoct may have convinced a few people for now, but it won’t last.”

Darby slid past Garrett’s restraining arm, dismay darkening her bright eyes. “Mayor Carson, I know your loss has been terrible. But Elise did say—”

“Who are you?”

Garrett silenced her with a look. “Take the kids inside,” he ordered flatly. “And keep them there until he’s gone.”

She bit her lip, clearly reluctant. But finally she went, leaving Garrett alone with his father. “What are you doing here, Caldwell? Slumming?”

“I came to see my grandchildren. That secretary of yours has put me off long enough. You wouldn’t take my calls, so here I am. I want to see them.”

“Not today, Gramps.”

“You can’t keep them from me.”

“I can as long as I’m their guardian.”

“That’ll end on Wednesday.”

“So you keep threatening. Frankly, I’m pretty bored with it all.”

“Do you have no respect for your sister at all?”

Cold anger settled inside him. “Have you? You slapped a For Sale sign on her house before anyone could blink. You were huddling with your lawyers before my sister was even buried.” His lips twisted. “You never did have any respect for the dead.”

“Your mother would be ashamed of you.”

Garrett’s hand curled. It took everything he possessed not to raise it. “The only shame in my mother’s life was her involvement with you.”

“I loved Bonnie.”

“I’m sure your wife found that as comforting as the rest of us. You loved women,” Garrett corrected flatly. “My mother was just one more to you.” He stared at Caldwell, seeing the physical resemblance between himself and the older man and hating it. “No comment?”

“You can’t keep those children from me,” Caldwell finally said. His voice was harsh. “For God’s sake, son. They’re all I have left.”

Garrett knew that. How well he knew that, and how well he knew just how much like this cold old man he really was. “Don’t call me son.”

Then he picked up his tool chest and walked away.

He stopped short at the sight of Darby standing inside the fence. The children were nowhere in sight.

“Garrett, I—” she hesitated “—are you all right?”

His jaw tightened until it ached. He wanted, needed, her on his side to win his case against Caldwell. But right now, the soft look in her eyes was more than he could take.

“I told you to go inside,” he said flatly. But instead of having the desired effect, the look in her eyes softened even more before she turned and headed into the house.

Leaving him. Alone.

Chapter Seven

Thunder crashed overhead, sounding as if mountains were caving in on the house. Darby pressed her hands to her ears, wishing she could blot out the violent sounds of the electrical storm raging outside.

Another rumble. Starting far off in the distance, rolling closer and closer, building strength, plowing over Garrett’s two-story rented house. Windows rattled. Glasses inside the cupboard rattled. The entire house seemed to rattle.

Darby shuddered and decided that sitting in the kitchen wasn’t the place to be, after all.

She gathered up the newspapers that had been piling up on the counter and carried them, along with her iced tea, into the living room. It was odd, she thought, listening to the storm brewing while it was swelteringly hot outside. There just seemed to be something wrong with that picture.

Georgie had told her about the storms that seemed to shake the world with fury. All noise and no show, she’d said.

Frankly, Darby figured the noise was bad enough to give the unwary a heart attack.

She set the newspapers on the couch, peered into the playpen where Keely and Bridget were sleeping, sound as could be. She didn’t know how it was possible to sleep while thunder shook the house, but she wasn’t going to argue with it. Tad was gnawing halfheartedly on his frozen teething ring. Hopefully, he’d fall asleep, too.

Regan and Reid weren’t seemingly bothered by the racket, either. The two blond heads barely looked up from the video they were watching over the coloring books Georgie had given them.

She sat down on the couch and flipped through the newspapers, hoping that she wouldn’t see another article about Phil Candela’s connection to Rutherford Transportation. So far, the newspaper had run several little blurbs about the man, including details of his funeral in Kentucky. Darby had sent flowers, but she’d been too cowardly to sign her name to them.

She bypassed articles about the increase of housing starts in Fisher Falls and the appointment of a new police chief, skimmed one about an upcoming carnival and lingered over a half-page advertisement of G&G Construction and Development, which was currently hiring in the area.

She flipped to the comic-strip section, which was more her usual focus and had been for years and years.

It was an old habit learned when she’d been only fifteen and the front pages were always containing some piece of news about her family. Her father was squiring around another starlet or heiress even as he inked the deal to acquire another small, struggling company. Her brother had won another race, received another award.

Every time there had been an article, Darby had found herself being approached by yet another person claiming to be her friend. A friend who wanted an introduction to her sexy older brother. A friend who wanted an invitation to their estate, just coincidentally when the governor and his wife were visiting for the weekend.

It had taken Darby a while to understand that she wasn’t the appeal for these people, but when she’d finally learned, she’d learned it well.

Too bad she hadn’t learned it before it was time to walk down the aisle with a groom who’d decided she wasn’t worth her father’s bribe after all.

Disgusted with the depressing thoughts, Darby pushed aside the papers and leaned into the playpen to pick up Tad. “You don’t need a bribe to like me, do you, Tad?”

But instead of spitting out his teething ring and grinning at her the way he always did, he just looked at her with his brown eyes fever bright.

Darby’s adrenaline kicked in. She propped him on her hip and carried him upstairs to take his temp. Something that he did not like at all.

And she didn’t like at all the fact that it was so high. He was teething, but that didn’t account for a temp this high.

She didn’t even know any of the pediatricians in town. The only doctor with whom she’d had any dealings had been Georgie’s physician.

Smiling into Tad’s unhappy face, she maneuvered him into shorts and a clean shirt and carried him back downstairs. He rested his hot face against her neck, his fingers tangling in her shirt.

“Regan, sweetie.” She sat down on the coffee table where Regan and Reid were drawing. “Do you remember ever going to the doctor?”

Regan nodded. “For a shot.” Her eyes slid to Reid. “He cried. But I didn’t.”

Reid pushed her arm. “Uh-huh,” he argued. “You did too cry.”

“Do you remember his name?”

“Who?”

“The doctor, Regan. What did you call the doctor when he gave you the shot?”

Her lips pursed. Then she shrugged and picked up another crayon. “I dunno.”

Darby gave up on that tack. Another boom of thunder rocketed the windows, and Tad started to cry. She hugged him gently and searched out a phone book. There were three pediatricians in town, but when she called them, none had any of the Northrop children listed in their records.

She called Garrett, but reached only Carmel, who said she was on her way out the door to a meeting and Garrett was at one of their building sites. Growing more frustrated by the minute, Darby called Smiling Faces. The only medical information in the children’s files was their parents’ insurance policy number and a notarized form that said Smiling Faces could obtain medical care for the children in an emergency—two things that didn’t help Darby in the least. Molly finally offered to send Beth over to watch the children while Darby took Tad to the hospital for a quick check.

It was about the least appealing solution Darby could have imagined, but at least she wouldn’t have to cart all five of them around in the brewing storm. When Beth finally arrived, Darby wanted to drag the young woman into the house and throttle her for taking so long. Instead, she gathered up Tad and hurried out to her car, fastening him into the car seat as she kept one eye on the angry-looking sky overhead. So far, Georgie’s words had proved true. All noise.

Tad started crying again when her car backfired, and she tried singing to distract him. It didn’t work and by the time she carried him into the emergency room at the hospital, she felt like crying herself.

Particularly when the admitting nurse refused to admit him without the guardian’s approval. Darby leaned over the desk and stared the prune-faced woman in the face. Calmly explaining the situation had gotten her nowhere. “I want this child examined. Right now.” There wasn’t one other single person in the waiting room.

“Then find the child’s guardian,” the other woman retorted.

“I’ve told you. He’s not available right now. For heaven’s sake! This is the mayor’s grandson,” Darby gritted.

“I don’t care if he’s the president’s grandson.”

Darby hissed with annoyance. Carrying Tad on her hip, she walked right past the admitting desk, through the double doors, to the first exam room, ignoring the voluble protests following her. “You can’t just go back there!”

“Watch me,” Darby muttered. She pressed her lips to Tad’s hot forehead, looking around until she found an otoscope. He’d been tugging at his ears, and she wasn’t surprised to find them both red. Inflamed. She carried him back out to the admitting desk where a security officer had been summoned. “He needs an antibiotic,” Darby said.